


My (not) Boyfriend Who is an Undercover Pirate

by violetsarefuckingpurple



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series), Fantasy High
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Grinding, I don't actually know if this is worth an explicit or just a mature, Kissing, M/M, Mild Smut, My First Smut, Smut, i think, so please be gentle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 14:54:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21375925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetsarefuckingpurple/pseuds/violetsarefuckingpurple
Summary: “For the record,” Fabian bites out between ragged breaths “This has nothing to do with the fact that my father was a pirate and everything to do with the fact that your entire chest is hanging out of that shirt.”The Bad Kids go undercover as pirates, but it's just Fabian and Riz making out in a closet.
Relationships: Riz Gukgak/Fabian Aramais Seacaster
Comments: 27
Kudos: 316





	My (not) Boyfriend Who is an Undercover Pirate

**Author's Note:**

> This started as me wanting to practice because I had never written smut before and why not, and it kinda... escalated into actually kinda having a plot? I didn't want one, but here we are I guess. I really hope you guys enjoy it.

“For the record,” Fabian bites out between ragged breaths “This has nothing to do with the fact that my father was a pirate and everything to do with the fact that your  _ entire _ chest is hanging out of that shirt.” 

“I’m your Daddy,” The Ball smirks, and then they both wrinkle their noses and splutter in some mixture of disgust, embarrassment, and mirth.

“ _ You _ are the worst, ohMYgod.” Fabian can’t help but laugh at his -whatever the hell The Ball is- 's stupidity. 

The situation is this, Fabian and The Ball had kissed a few weeks ago after a battle — adrenaline pumping and relief at being alive bright in their chests — and since then they have been making out just about every opportunity they can get. They haven’t uh, talked about it yet. The Ball had tried to initiate a conversation the day after and Fabian had straight (or not) up turned tail and run the fuck away like a goddamn coward (not his finest moment but he had just spent a solid three hours covered in blood with his tongue down his best friend’s throat until they both fell asleep lips still drowsily pressed together, so SUE him for being a tad on edge), and then when he had finally calmed down enough to sheepishly return,  _ The Ball  _ had taken one look at him and promptly climed into an air vent and hid. So they hadn’t talked about it. They weren’t an official couple or anything. The kissing though, there has been a lot of that going on. 

The rest of The Bad Kids had promptly succumbed to various states of amusement and annoyance due to the chaotic handsy-but-unofficial purgatory Fabian and The Ball had found themselves in, but Fabian couldn’t bring himself to care. These days, Fabian couldn’t bring himself to care about much more than the chapped skin of The Ball’s lips against his own.

Which is how they find themselves exactly as they are now, in a tiny custodial closet on a ship in the middle of the ocean, with the rest of their friends desperately searching for clues about a reportedly cursed stolen necklace, dozens of grizzled pirates who will absolutely try to kill them before this is over, and The Ball’s legs wound wonderfully around Fabian’s waist. Fabian has absolutely no regrets. 

“We should - ah  _ Fabian _ \- we should really get back to the others. They could be in danger and all that.”

“Yeah,” Fabian pants and does absolutely nothing to move away from The Ball. He wants to lick him. So he does. Right along the green column of his sweat shiny neck and down to his  _ highly  _ exposed clavicle to nip and suck as he so pleases. After all, he can. They have passed the hickey boundary long ago at this point. His own neck is currently sporting at least a dozen bruises, some more faded than others, and his back is a mess of desperate scratches. The Ball never knows what to do with his hands when he gets to a certain point, Fabian has learned, and then he always proceeds to scrabble with clawed fingers at every inch of Fabian’s back. As it turns out, Fabian fucking loves it when he does that. 

“_Fa-bi-an_, I mean it!” Fabian also loves it every single time The Ball moans, or in this case, _whines_ his name. In fact, up until the first time The Ball had done it, he had not given much thought to having a favorite sound (because why would he that was such a random thing to have a favorite of), but now he was definitely positive that his name from The Ball’s lips was it. 

“Yeah, I mean it it too, but it’s right  _ there _ !” Fabian punctuates his statement with a sharp bite at the skin right over The Ball’s heart that sends the goblin writhing against him. Shit. One of the fan-fucking-tastic downsides to having a (not) boyfriend that is way too short to be kissed when they are standing at the same level, is that just legistically The Ball’s ass ends up settled right on top of Fabian’s dick every time they makeout, and while that is amazing and wonderful and perfect in every way, it is also slowly driving Fabian insane. He digs his fingers hard into the flesh of The Ball’s thighs, to hold him still or drag him closer he doesn’t know. All he knows is that it does in fact cause The Ball to squirm closer, and the wriggling and pressure up against him is  _ deliciously  _ unbearable. He is vaguely aware of his own moaning, distant but very obviously loud and throaty, and The Ball makes a smug tutting noise and kisses the moan into silence.

“Shh, do you want everyone to know that we are down here?”  _ That _ is a very debatable subject. On the one hand, everyone knowing that they are here could potentially be either humiliating or life-threatening depending on if the other have blown their cover yet — Fabian knows from experience that if the pirates still believe that they are fellow pirates the bawdy teasing being caught would garner would be face-searing — but on the other hand… 

Ok look, Fabian has never claimed not to be a possessive bastard, in fact it seems very on brand that he should want it to be very clear what is  _ his _ , and The Ball really does look  _ delectable _ in his deep v-neck pirate shirt with his wind-swept hair and devilish smile and the dangling clip-on gold earring that keeps tapping at the corner of his jaw like a goddamn arrow, “Bite me here”, and Fabian knows for a fact that he is not the only one who has noticed that fact. Etarip Etaripson, for example, the broad shouldered - tawny haired son of the captain, had been winking at The Ball  _ all day _ , to the point where The Ball had become convinced that Eta was allergic to salt or something and was getting a lot of sea-spray specifically to his left eye. (Fabian hadn’t corrected his - **not** \- boyfriend, but he had “accidentally” stabbed Eta in the hand with a fork. Twice.) 

With all that in mind, fuck him if some part of Fabian doesn’t kinda want every single person on board the ship to know who The Ball is actually (not quite) dating. (And especially fuck him if you are a badass, hot as hell goblin detective, possibly though not satisfactorily proven to be named Riz Gukgak. Please, God, fuck him given those circumstances.) Fabian shoves The Ball a little harder into the uneven shelving unit behind him, and growls deep and menacing into his mouth —

“If you don’t want me to make any noise, don’t fucking do that with your  _ hips _ .” Except, fuck that, please fucking do that with your hips. Pretty — pretty please, you’re so pretty, with your hair all messy and tangled and green like ivy, and your eyes all dark, and your chest all open for me to bite at and mark as (uno-fucking-ficially) mine.

The Ball laughs breathlessly, tossing his head head back in a way that should be fucking illegal, and he rolls his hips against Fabian’s in a way that given the context has to be intentional but could also very well just be coincidence, and who actually gives a fuck because Fabian is on fucking  _ fire _ . It feels like his blood is _ made _ of electricity; every single segment where the stuff is pumped from the tips of his toes to the top of his scalp buzzes and tingles with sparking white-hot pleasure. The sound that wrenches from Fabian’s chest is… not animalistic, not even wild. It is a mewling, vulnerable thing that would be very embarrassing if Fabian was not currently  _ dying _ . 

He drops his head into the crook of The Ball’s neck and fucking sobs, praise and confessions burbling helplessly from his lips as he looses every semblance of control.

“I love you, I love you. You’re so perfect, fuck, I can’t. I can’t! I’m dying. I love you.” He’s hard, of course he’s hard, but he’s also undone, and he’s supposed to be the strong one, all big and tall and tough and macho, so why is it that regardless of the fact that he is the one lifting The Ball, it feels like The Ball is holding him? Why is it that he always breaks down a hundred times harder than The Ball ever does? Fabian thinks, or he would if there was any room in his brain for thought beyond the pulse of “please, please, **_please_**”, that it is probably because he is _not_ **_the_** tough one. He is the tall one sure, bigger by luck of species in a way that ensures him the ability to scoop The Ball up easily as can be, but The Ball is every bit as tough as Fabian could ever be, and he is as focused as Fabian never could. 

The Ball groans, much quieter than Fabian has been, but just as gravelly and sweet, like smooth honey poured over coarse sand, and it is more of a victory because he is usually too focused on moving to produce much sound. He looks up, and his slitted pupils are blown up like a picture of the entire goddamn galaxy, black and starry and vast. Fabian gazes at them with awe, unaware of anything in the world but their glow and the dirty deep grinding of their hips. They hadn’t gotten this far before. This is uncharted territory with all the open want and flagrant need and desperate, jerking movements. Fabian wonders what made the change.

“I love you too,” The Ball whispers, quiet and private and  _ precious _ . 

“ _ Riz- _ ”

Fabian comes and it is blinding. 

When he comes back to himself, or somewhat back to himself because he’s never getting all the way, his first thought is  _ oh, had he really said it first? _ He can’t remember, which feels like a robbery, but he is too blissfully taken with the turquoise flush of completion high on The Ball’s cheeks to care. These days, Fabian couldn’t bring himself to care about much more than The Ball’s… uh, everything. Right now, The Ball is  _ glowing _ , absolutely radiant with loose happy pleasure. 

“You called me by my name,” The Ball declares, almost giddily. 

“Did I now?” Fabian replies, dumb with fondness and endorphins and just …  _ love _ . 

“Yeah, you did. You never— I don’t think you’ve ever done that before.”

“I always call you by your name.”

“No you don’t. I mean my  _ real _ one.”

“I do!”

“My real name is not The Ball, Fabian!”

“Well I see no evidence to the contrary!”

“For the last time I am not having my mom go digging through our stuff to find my birth certificate just to prove a point to you!” Riz is giggling, light and bright and beautiful.

“Well isn’t that just suspicious and convenient!  _ The Ball,”  _ Riz cackles, and bats at Fabian’s chest with playful force.

“Oh my God. Or rather Kristen’s. Who’s she worshiping these days?”

“Who knows?” 

Riz grins at him, before his gaze gets softer and quieter again. Not insecure, but something adjacent to it that makes Fabian’s chest go achey.

“Hey, uh, did you mean it? When you said that you…” Fabian knows exactly what Riz is getting at right away, and he wishes more than anything that he could remember speaking the words. Because he meant them, some god that is currently in Kristen Applebees’ good graces knows that he did, but to say that he did when he doesn’t remember saying them feels like a lie. His pulse is shuddery quick in his throat, and he thinks he might choke on it. He is not ready, after what just happened, to run away and relinquish this chance making Riz his own  _ again _ . He needn’t of worried though. Riz is apparently far braver than him. Sucking in a steadying breath, the goblin finishes his thought — “Because I did. Mean it, I mean. I love you.”

Fabian does not cry. He comes damn close though.

“I love you too. So much. So SO much. And if you would have me, I would very much like to, uh, be your boyfriend, you know, if you want.”

“I want.” Riz does not hesitate in answering “I really want.”

Fabian grins and kisses him again, more of an enthusiastic peck this time, and he can feel Riz smiling into the kiss too. 

“Sorry I ran away before,” Fabian sighs as they pull apart.

“Sorry  _ I  _ hid in an air vent.” Riz nudges him affectionately with his nose at Fabian’s jaw and Fabian feels a swell of love takeover his chest.

“Sorry  _ we _ hid in this crate and watched the whole thing,” speaks up a voice behind them. Fabian and Riz whip around just in time to see Fig and Adaine hastily trying to shove a beaming Kristen back into said crate. Gorgug is seated behind them, still in the crate and cross-legged. He waves.

“Hey guys, really happy for you!”

“Yeah, glad you’ve gotten over your shit,” adds Fig

“Yes, and that you are no longer pursuing my sister,” Adaine states, red-faced and not exactly meeting their eyes.

“Heck yeah for the gays!” exclaims the still beaming, still standing immovable Kristen. 

“Guys what the actual fuck?!” yelps Riz as the shock finally wears off enough for him to speak. He is still, pointedly wrapped around Fabian’s waist. Fabian’s cheeks burn. Ah, so just humiliating after all, got it.

“Well,” Fig says, giving up on trying to re-hide Kristen “This has been  _ super _ fun, we should all have a super rebellious orgy sometime and—”

** _“GET OUT!”_ ** both Fabian and Riz yell in unison, and The Bad Kids sans two members (one couple), break apart and into the room beyond the custodial closet laughing boisterously and ready to kick some pirate ass.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment, I am a vain, insecure idiot in constant desire for outside validation :). Seriously though, it does make my day every time I read y'all's comments, though I sometimes forget to respond and I'm sorry. Love you all and hope you have a lovely night. Bye!


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